


Kakuzu is a doctor and Hidan is a massive massive scab

by Frostberry



Series: Kakuzu and Hidan being very Australian dickheads [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 07:41:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostberry/pseuds/Frostberry
Summary: Prologue to Kakuzu is a Commbank manager and Hidan is a Centrelink dole bludger. This is basically Kakuzu and Hidan being asshole serial killers but its set in Australia. In this disturbing segment, we see how they met; at a grave, both depositing bodies at the same time and then getting pissed at each other.





	Kakuzu is a doctor and Hidan is a massive massive scab

So it turned out that Kakuzu’s book dealer had been giving him the wrong books for almost a decade now. After a few quick calculations, it seemed that Shikaku Nara had cost Kakuzu hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Kakuzu worked ninety-hour weeks. He didn’t want to put up with the bullshit drama that Nara had gotten him into. Slowly, he cut his work hours down to forty, which didn’t matter anyway at his workplace because that didn’t mean anything to them. They were like, _Kakuzu you need to do this, Kakuzu, you need to do that -_ he was finally getting to the age where retirement was an option for him, but he decided he wanted to work in a bank instead. Money was something that had never failed him. He was a stingy motherfucker who never splurged except on buying the most rare and valuable books to sell again in several years time.

That bastard book dealer Nara had cost him exactly $400,400.76. When he’d found out, he was pretty livid. They weren’t on particularly friendly terms, as the Naras kept to themselves. The money he’d been scammed out of was enough to buy a one bedroom unit on the outskirts of the CBD. It was to be added for his superannuation.

Unfortunately for Nara, he didn’t know Kakuzu that well even though he knew Kakuzu had an eye for rare and valuable books. Because instead of filing a lawsuit, Kakuzu figured it was easier to kill him instead.

This was why Kakuzu was out at three o’clock in the morning pushing a large striped red-white-blue bag in a Woolworths shopping trolley he’d “forgot to take back to the shop” - to the local cemetery. In the bag was Shikaku Nara, aka #1 piece of shit, crumpled up after being smacked with the sharp side of an axe and strangled with Kakuzu’s bare hands.  

The cemetery was a large one in out in the suburbs. It had gotten bigger over the years and several houses in the area had been torn down to make way for new graves. There was a large dirt patch that had just been cleared and Kakuzu had been one of the first to put his name down for a grave reservation for when he died.

Actually, Kakuzu had decided to kill Nara, then picked the grave he wanted just to deposit this fucker into it. Not that he deserved to be in one - but it was fire season so he couldn’t set him on fire like he had originally fantasised. He steered the trolley under a gum tree to push into a nearby creek later and heaved Nara out. The magpies were slowly warming up to being awake now, and were singing and probably staring at him with their red eyes, wondering what he was doing. However, Kakuzu wasn’t paying attention to that.

There was someone at his grave. What the fuck?

He could hear the crumpling of a bag, and Kakuzu squinted, trying to see what was going on in the dark. He couldn’t make out what was going on until he heard a thump. Someone was depositing a body - it seemed - in _his_ grave. He’d spent all that time digging it himself only to have some fucker come along and take it?

No. Now Kakuzu was pissed. Even though he had a big nylon bag resting on his shoulder full of dead Nara, which crinkled loudly, he made his way to his grave. He could see a man on his knees slowly pushing a blue and yellow Ikea bag into the hole. It made a loud crunching sound as it fell a metre in, and that’s when Kakuzu decided to make his move.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Kakuzu walked (stomped) straight up to him and shoved the man into the grave in a flurry of dust. The man squawked and he fell in on top of the Ikea bag.

“What the _fuck_ , man!?” He rubbed his head and looked up, looking a bit pissed off. Kakuzu was surprised to see a young guy there.

“That’s _my_ grave.”

“You’re not dead? You aren’t using it…?” said the man. Definitely young, Kakuzu could see. Clean shaven, pale, and wearing a blue wifebeater. That was all he could see, as it was dark.

“That’s _my_ grave,” he repeated, throwing the body bag containing the book dealer down on the ground with all his strength. “I reserved it for when I die, you moron.”

“That’s like, genius.” the guy said, now covered in dirt and pulling himself up. “I need to do that. If I die. Unfortunately, whatever your name is, you’ll be going to your grave now, not later.”

Kakuzu was used to fuckheads, where he worked. But the guy pulled himself out of the grave with astonishing speed, and Kakuzu didn’t even notice the swiss army knife he took from his back pocket. There was a flash of pain, and suddenly his mouth filled with blood and he leapt back. The man - he could barely see in the dark as the moon wasn’t out tonight - tried to go for him again, so Kakuzu picked up the bag of Nara with almighty strength and threw it on top of him. Crushed by eighty kilos of dead weight, the man fell back into the grave, and screeched like a fucked up galah that had just been run over by a semi.

“Hey!” Now the man was covered in dirt and wriggled away. “I’m stuck between two dead things, gross.”

At least that confirmed that this guy was also trying to get away with murder.

“Who are you burying?” Kakuzu put his hands over his mouth; he felt blood dripping down his palms and onto his long sleeved hoodie.

“Oh, just burying a pig,” said the man, sounding totally unconcerned that he had murdered someone. “For God.”

“Why can’t you just… why would you slaughter a pig? What the hell…” Kakuzu said thickly. He couldn’t believe what was going on. He clamped his mouth shut, and ripped a piece of cloth off hoodie sleeve to cover his mouth.

“ _Ooh_. No, not like, pig pig. Like, police pig. His name’s Shikamaru Nara-

“You killed a _Nara_!?”

The man shrugged. “So? He’s a dickhead. He’s this police officer - sorry, _piece of shit_ officer - who thinks he’s top shit and won’t do anything to help anyone. He thought he could outsmart me, and God, but oh no…” He wormed his way out of the Nara sandwich to sit on the side of the grave, feet swinging as if he was on a playground swing. He looked up at Kakuzu and smirked.

Kakuzu glowered at him. His face was pulsing with pain now, and he didn’t want to get any blood on the dirt in case something happened and the police came and declared it a crime scene. Although it was supposed to rain in the next few hours, which was why Kakuzu had decided to throw Shikaku in tonight, and fill in the dirt before he had to go back to his workplace to receive a few more forms before he was finally out of this mess for good. He didn’t want to talk as it would exacerbate the wound, so he managed to explain in as few words as possible that the guy in the blue-red-white nylon bag was Shikamaru’s _father_.

The man, who was still swinging his legs over the nylon bag, was dumbfounded. “We chose to dump bodies in the same place… from the same family…? What the fuck…? Are we soulmates?”

“No.” said Kakuzu, grinding his teeth. “You fucking, fucking idiot. Talk later, because you need to take me to the hospital, _now_.”

“Haha, you look like you got gills-” the man started to laugh, but then stopped when Kakuzu pushed his knife in front of his face, barely a centimetre away from one of his eyeballs. He gulped. Bemused, the stranger felt the back of his jeans and found that Kakuzu had managed to get the knife off him when he slashed his face.

“God will never let me be hurt,” he said quietly. “Fine. I’ll take you to the fucking hospital.” He put his hands up as though surrendering, and slowly got up and shook the dirt out of his clothes and hair.

“Once you are done, you go back here and put the dirt back in, you understand?”

“Yeah, nah - _fine-_ ” Kakuzu jabbed him in the back with the knife.

“ _Move_.”

“Okay, okay! Lord Jashin won’t appreciate any of this shit, I tell ya… jeez…”  

 

\--

 

“Here’s my car.”

 _The kid probably killed his parents to get this car._ It was a very nice car - not one your stereotypical killer would be in (a white van) but a Commodore instead.

There was a pause as the guy opened the driver’s side and turned the ignition on, and then started chucking things into the back seat so Kakuzu could get in the passenger side.

“Just to clarify, it’s not my car,” he pointed out, shoving a box of Chicken Crimpies in the glovebox. He put the light on in the car so Kakuzu could take a good look at him. He looked young, though he had silver hair which was gelled back tightly. He definitely needed a haircut. Kakuzu digged him to be a blue collar worker, but wasn’t quite sure. Squinting at Kakuzu’s face, the man got out the car to open the boot.

“Whose car is it?”

“Dunno,” the guy tapped the car registration plate, and he opened the boot to get some cloth out for Kakuzu’s face. “I’ve had it a for year and never been picked up for it.” He had made the ‘5’ on the plate into an ‘S’ using a sharpie, Kakuzu observed.

The car was very clean, with a southern cross decal over the back of it. The guy tapped a strange sort of rosary with a triangle inside a circle that was hanging off the rear view mirror before reversing out the cemetery car park.

The man barely looked up as he drove. He was too busy on his phone, talking to someone called Stupid Fucking Housemate, saying he’d been out all night sacrificing lambs for God and accidentally slashed a guy in the face so he was taking him to hospital. It turned out the nutcase kid had written also all over the dashboard in white texta, weird shit like _For the Promised Ones, There Will be the Peace of the Most Devout for Our Lord Jashin, which is our belief…_

“Don’t get fucking blood in my car.” The guy reminded him before he was back on his phone again.

_And in war the scarlet liquid to be raised, the hell they came to and the hell that has sent us back…_

“What is this?” Kakuzu asked.

The guy hung up instantly and gave Kakuzu the biggest, creepiest smile he had ever seen.

It was now that Kakuzu realised this guy really was a nutter about some crazy religion which included the occasional human sacrifice. And so for next time, he decided to shut up before asking questions...

 

\--

 

Kakuzu groaned when he saw what hospital the guy had taken him to.

“You can leave now,” he pointed out when the man parked in the drop-off bay.

The guy of course didn’t comply and so Kakuzu grudgingly walked into the emergency room, where it was empty at a quarter to four on a thursday morning.

“Dr Kakuzu,” said the nurse cheerily, getting up from her desk, “Have you come to fill the rest of your forms in - oh my god, what happened to you!?”

“Doctor - _Doc-fucking-tor?_ You’re a DOCTOR?” the man couldn’t believe his luck. “What the flying fuck - you actually _smart!_?”

The triage nurse took a weird look at the strange man. “Did he do something to you, Dr Kakuzu?” She sounded concerned and picked the phone up to call triple zero.

“I didn’t do jack shit, I found him like this!” the man protested.

‘,...That is true.” Kakuzu agreed.  

“It was a true sign from God that I found him like this. My God, not your shitty white-man Jesus guy, but Lord Jashin,” he informed the lady matter-of-factly. She looked a little offended and held the cross necklace on her chest. Kakuzu was handed a sheet and he ignored the guy’s evangelising. “This guy here, _Doctor_ Kakuzu, is a good friend of mine, I will-”

“What’s your name?” Kakuzu interrupted him, and handed him a form to fill out.

The man stopped preaching. “Oh. Yeah, it’s Hidan.”

 

\--

 

It was daylight when Kakuzu left his office, with his last remaining folder of paperwork he had to fill out. There was a half-assed _We’ll Miss You!_ Card that had been passed around the nurses in his hand. In the other he was holding a bunch of flowers which had a reduced sticker on from the petrol station. He’d gone to the newsagent’s before coming out of the hospital, picking out the plainest scarf he could find which wasn’t crocheted or covered in charity logos.

“Cash, Cheque, Savings, Credit or Paywave?” said the tired cashier when Kakuzu handed over what he wanted. He also handed over his bus pass so he could put a few days on it, as well.

“Keycard.” Kakuzu handed over his yellow bank card.

“You are now the proud owner of a new scarf,” said the newsagent man, yawning. “Good look in your recovery.”

Kakuzu rolled his eyes and made his way out.

He almost made it to the bus stop when he saw Hidan standing across the road holding a Bunnings shovel. It was obvious he was waiting for him, even though Kakuzu wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

“Thanks for lying for me.” Hidan didn’t sound very thankful at all. Kakuzu glared, though this looked pretty funny to Hidan because he’d had several injections and his face looked like a balloon from all the swelling. He now had several large stitches in his face. He pulled the scarf further over his nose and now looked like he owned a Harley Davidson. “I’ve put the dirt back in, and the trolley is in the creek. I’ll drop you off at yours. I’m guessing as you’re a doctor, you live in some mansion somewhere.”

“I’m taking a bus home.”

Hidan stared. “But I paid for parking and everything!”

“Why are you being nice?”

“Because I thought we could be brilliant, unstoppable killers together. And I want to know what you were doing with the body bag ‘cause I checked, that’s definitely Shikamaru’s dad. Are you a necrophiliac, Dr Kakuzu? That’s just gross.”

“No. Shikaku Nara scammed me out of thousands of dollars and it was easier to kill him than sue him,” said Kakuzu. “And it was a one-off. I’m taking the bus. Goodbye.”

Hidan stepped in front of him, his strange red eyes suddenly serious. “If you take the bus, I’ll call the cops on you for killing Shikamaru’s father.”

“If you drive me, I’ll call the police about you killing Shikaku’s kid.”

“How about I give you a ride home for free?:”

 

\--

 

Watching Hidan deposit nothing but 5 cent coins into the pay and display machine was amusing. Kakuzu didn’t know why this young piece of shit had decided to help him. Hidan thought that they could make a good partnership. Except Kakuzu wasn’t really interested in ‘partnerships’. He had no emotions, nothing he cared about. Except money, which, on the other hand, gave him a small flicker of hope that there was an emotion or two inside of him.

He regarded Hidan.

So far, Kakuzu had found out that Hidan followed a religion which nobody had ever heard of which included human sacrifices even though he had told ‘Stupid Fucking Housemate’ that he had gone out sacrificing lambs at a farm all night. It had started to rain, and by now the tracks both of them had left early this morning would have completely disappeared…

 

\--

 

Kakuzu noticed Hidan must live within a short walking distance from him. He’d never been through the streets that Hidan was driving around in, but he had driven through the particular suburb. Hidan wasn’t a very good driver, and occasionally cut corners and scraped the kerb. Kakuzu lived on the other side of the main road in a middle class suburb that was the total opposite of this shithole. Here, the gardens were mostly just dirt with broken pavers and ants nests and the houses were far away from the street.

“Yeah, I know where we are.” Hidan said, putting the window wipers on faster as it poured. “I’m guessing you live on the other side of the main road.”

“You can stop here.”

“Why? I live right right there.” And with that, Hidan went over the roundabout instead of around it and parked on the corner house, scraping the street sign and going under a large jacaranda. “I’ll like, make you food and shit.”

“I want to go home.” Kakuzu would have started to walk, but it was raining, and he did not want to get the dressing on his face wet. It was a small unit Hidan lived in, with a pale blue bike out the front under the porch. There were large NO DOOR KNOCKERS PLEASE YOU CUNTS stickers plastered all over the door, as if they didn’t get the hint already. There was rock music coming from inside.

Hidan rattled the flyscreen and shouted as loud as he could. “Stupid Fucking Housemate, are you awake?”

The music was turned up louder in response.

Hidan unlocked the door and Kakuzu noticed a large amount of debt collector hangers dangling from the door lever.

“My humble abode, where Stupid Fucking Housemate has started up a fireworks urn business,” Hidan said over the sound of music and pouring rain.

“What?”

There was an almighty bang outside.

Because Kakuzu lived not too far away, he was used to the occasional firework going off. However he had never noticed it had come from the same house each time. Hidan and Stupid Fucking Housemate lived in a cramped ground floor unit, with several framed art prints and _Zoo_ posters on one side of the lounge wall, and a futon underneath which looked like it had never been put back into the lounge position. A large poster of the same symbol as the pendant hanging from Hidan’s rear view mirror was on the opposite wall from the disgusting _Zoo_ pictures. It seemed like Hidan had printed it off from somewhere, as it was on ordinary paper, with the edges starting to peel away from the Blu-Tack. A bookshelf was full of second hand books - half seemed to be about chemistry, and the other half was on world religions. Kakuzu was surprised Hidan was capable of reading.

“Come meet Stupid Fucking Housemate.”

Stupid Fucking Housemate’s real name was Deidara. His was busy rolling up durries when Kakuzu and Hidan approached. He had been out the back, underneath the verandah, which you had to go through the tiny laundry to get to. The backyard was big, though. He’d been staring out into the rain when Hidan banged the flyscreen door open with a screech.

“Who’s this fucker, yeah?” Deidara licked the white tab and with miniscule movements, sealed the tobacco inside the paper.

“He’s Kakuzu. _Doctor_ Kakuzu. I may have attacked him with my knife, hence the, uh, stitching. And the gay scarf.” He added as an afterthought.

Deidara stared. “So why is he here and you’re not in a cell, yeah?” He pulled out a lighter and lit the cigarette; Kakuzu could smell both tobacco and marijuana.

“He’s come to sort out the brain damage you’ve got.” Then, Hidan added in a whisper to Kakuzu, “Stupid Fucking Housemate once touched a ghost dog named Shovel and now he has to end all his sentences with ‘Yeah’.”

Deidara glowered. “Yeah nah, you only think that because you watch too much Round the Twist, Hidan, yeah?”

“YoU oNlY tHiNk ThAt bEcAuSe yOu WaTcH tOo MuCh RoUnD tHe TwIsT, yeah?” Hidan mocked him, hands on hips.

“Is he usually like this?” Kakuzu asked Deidara. “No, thank you,” he said, when he was offered a puff.

“Usually worse, yeah.” Deidara took another drag of the cigarette. He looked younger than his housemate, though he looked tired, as if he’d been working all night. A piece of ash dropped onto the inside of his elbow and he flicked it onto the wet cement. He was wearing a Year 12 jumper with the sleeves rolled up, and on the front it indicated he had only finished school last year. “Why are you hanging around with him, yeah? Hidan doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but his God, you know.”

It took Kakuzu a while to reply. “He owes me money.”

Deidara burst out laughing. “He owes everyone money, yeah.”

Kakuzu figured that if he had to pay a small cost for stitches, which he would get the bill for later, then Hidan would have to pay. But how to get money out of him? No idea. Mentally, looking around the backyard, he couldn’t see anything that was of value that Hidan could sell at Cash Converters.

“You can make me coffee,” said Kakuzu to Hidan. “Because we have to talk.”

Deidara smirked. “Good luck.”

Hidan grumbled. “Fucking fine. Then we’ll talk about how we went on a murdering rampage.”

“Are you a Jashinist as well, yeah?” Deidara asked with interest.

 

\--

 

The unit wasn’t a borderline hoarding case, but it was messy. There was just a lot of unnecessary crap everywhere. Hidan opened the cupboard and all Kakuzu could see were supermarket bags in more bags, which showed at least him or Deidara had _some_ organisation skills. “Where the frick-frack is the fucking kettle-” There was now a pile of Coles and Woolworths bags on the floor, before Hidan found the kettle. He didn’t bother to put the bags away. “What are you glaring at me for now?”

“You stupid fucking teenager,” Kakuzu started to say, about to lecture him on talking about murder in front of Deidara, now that Deidara was out of earshot.

“Twenty is not a teenager. Nineteen in fact, _is_ a teenager-”  

“Anyone under the age of twenty-five is in my eyes a stupid fucking teenager.”

“You’re like what… 90? So I don’t fucking care about your shitty opinion. You probably killed Harold Holt’s sorry arse. You’re so old you saw probably killed all those poor schoolgirls at Hanging Rock and still survive to this day munching on their bones. In fact, at least I don’t look like I’m a white walker that just fucked an old avocado because that’s what you look like right fucking now.”

“...Picnic at Hanging Rock is a story, you idiot. And no, I did not kill Harold Holt… and no, I don’t eat…” Kakuzu couldn’t believe the crap that was coming out of this kids mouth. Was he really that insane? “I want a coffee and we can talk about the Naras, like civil people.” Not that either of them were very civil, to be honest.

Looking a bit fed up, Hidan found a small Nescafé jar at the top of a shelf. Both were nearly empty. Kakuzu sat down at the table, looking through his phone.

“How old are you, by the way? You aren’t probably as old as you look, you wrinkled banknote.”

I’m 51,” Kakuzu interrupted, looking up from figuring out how to get back to his house on Google Maps. “I have no hobbies, and I’m currently transferring careers to become a bank manager. I like money, before you ask.”

“Win the fucking lotto then.”

“No, I’m winning the lotto by not participating in the lottery.”

Hidan opened his mouth to answer. Then shut it. “You’re right.” He handed Kakuzu a poorly-made coffee which tasted like terrible hospitality. “And how much is the bill for your, uh, zombie makeup?”

“It’ll be $483.45.”

Hidan shifted a little, drinking directly from the milk bottle he got out the fridge. “Yeah, I don’t have that kinda money.”

“He’s not unemployed, Hidan does actually have a job,” said Deidara, coming inside and kicking his boots off. “He’s on his last warning, yeah. He whacked a street preacher.”

“It was an accident, you fuckhead.”

“You say everything is an accident when you know full well it’s not, yeah.” Deidara took the milk bottle away from Hidan and drank from it too. Both immature little shits with milk moustaches looked at Kakuzu.

“Good luck getting money out of Hidan, he sold his Xbox on Gumtree to get me out of jail, yeah.”

“So why were you in jail?”

“It’s fire season and I’m not supposed to set fireworks off without a proper permit, so the police came and confiscated them, yeah. So when they left I blew the rest of my supply up.”

Hidan snorted. “It was the _funniest_ thing I’ve ever seen in my life. They got a hundred metres down the road and they did the quickest u-ey and holy fuck, Deidara was arrested and it was _glorious_.”

Hidan had even framed the Facebook post that the police made about the incident, which he showed Kakuzu with pride. Kakuzu didn’t quite understand the humour, as he was 51 and didn’t know why he was still hanging around with a Year 12 graduate and a twenty-year-old nutter.

At length, Deidara wandered off to bed, having had a busy night before doing nothing but setting off fireworks and handling noise complaints from the police. Kakuzu turned to Hidan.

“So when are you going to pay up?”

“When I get money.”

“When will that be?”

“Dunno.”

“Right. What are we going to do about the Naras?”

Hidan shrugged. “Nothing. Shikamaru’s a dead dickhead. Shikaku’s… yeah, also a… dead dickhead. Never liked him either. Anyway, according to Deidara I was out sacrificing lambs. I have an alibi…”

 

\--

 

Kakuzu managed to leave Hidan and Deidara’s when it stopped raining, near lunchtime. He was pretty tired. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the last time he would see Hidan again.

 

\--

 

_Several days later_

 

Kakuzu had just been photographing books to sell on eBay when there was a loud bang on his door.

“Hey, gay,” announced Hidan, wearing a _Stop the GOATS_ singlet from some bogan-wear shop, Target shorts and unsurprisingly, Target thongs. “Can I borrow some money?”

“No.” Kakuzu went to shut the door but Hidan inserted his elbow between the door and the frame, stopping him. “How did you find out where I lived?”

Hidan managed to squirm around and then pointed at the letterbox. “Checked your litterbox - sorry, _letterbox._ Letters have got your name on it.” Kakuzu snatched his Union Magazine and Telstra bill from his hand.

“Hey, don’t snatch! I had to follow the postman on his little red bicycle going from house to house.” Hidan wriggled through and just managed to dodge as Kakuzu took a swipe at him and banged the door shut. He peered into the lounge where News 24 was reporting on the Nara disappearances…

“ _Shikamaru Nara, aged twenty, newly graduated police officer with a newborn son and wife_ …”  Kakuzu switched off the uninterested reporter. Hidan shrugged.

“What do you want? You still owe me $480.” Hidan had scabbed around looking for spare change in his unit, and had given Kakuzu $3.45 towards his I Will Pay For Your Hospital Bill fund.

“I have no food, and I know God doesn’t want me to die just yet.”

“Just remember this, if you cannot pay it back, I _will_ kill you.”

“Sure,” Hidan didn’t sound like he cared enough. Kakuzu handed him $25 very, very grudgingly.

 

_Two hours later_

 

“Dr Kakuzu speaking.”

“Hey. Do you like dogs?” It was Hidan on the other end. He must have googled Kakuzu to find his hospital portfolio, which had his mobile number displayed on the website.

“No.”

“Cool,” said Hidan. “I’ll be around in just a bit.”

Twenty minutes later Hidan turned up with a black labradoodle.

Kakuzu stared.

“I got him for twenty bucks off Gumtree. I was tryna get a Skyrim boxset but I stole his dog instead. There’s no stamp on his ear so I don’t think he’s microchipped.”

“Why have you got him? I thought you needed that money for food.”

“I know, but there are such things as food banks, y’know? Anyway, I checked the rental agreement and we’re not allowed pets. Not even fish.”

“Get a pet rock then.” Kakuzu went to close the door.

Again, Hidan put his body through the gap. “Hey! Take a good look at this dog. He’s all bones and shit.”

Kakuzu looked again.

The poor thing looked like it was starving. It quivered as it looked at Kakuzu with large soulful eyes.

With a grunt, he let them both in.

“Got any bits of Nara in the fridge for him to eat?” Hidan opened the fridge, and took out the stir fry Kakuzu had made the day before. He fed a piece of chicken to the dog who eagerly accepted it.

“No. Don’t you ever work? You know the owner will call the police? How have you never been in jail for anything?”

Hidan, it seemed, had no self-preservation qualities about him. Walking in front of moving traffic? Yep. Kakuzu had seen that. Easy. Texting while driving? Yep. Done that.

“That reason why I don’t get caught is because of God.” Kakuzu wanted to bang his head against the wall, but didn’t want to pay for the damage because of this utter idiot who truly believed he could get away with anything. “And I do work, thank you very much. I work in the city at the shops. Anyway, I’ll pay you back for being a scab. But,” he pointed a single finger at Kakuzu’s nose. “I have decided on your fate, Dr Kakuzu.”

“ _Really_.” Kakuzu was not interested at all in his ‘fate’.

“Yes,” Hidan nodded.  “One day you will be my sacrifice, and it will be the best thing that has ever happened to you.”

He was being serious.

Kakuzu sighed. _Fucking lunatic_.

Hidan left, without the dog. “See you next Tuesday.” He walked away with a loaf of sourdough rye, the stir fry and a packet of strawberry lamingtons from Kakuzu’s pantry.

The dog looked at him, and Kakuzu got him a tin of tuna, before he realised that Hidan had just called him a cunt.

 

\----

 

Kakuzu hoped that was the last time he ever, ever, _ever_ saw Hidan again.

He was supposed to start at the bank last Thursday, but because he was still healing from the knife injuries, he was asked to come in on Tuesday morning instead. He left the dog with the neighbour and took the bus into the CBD.

“Mr Kakuzu?” the pink haired teller girl asked uncertainly, and Kakuzu looked at her name tag. Sakura. She shifted a little, because it looked like Kakuzu had just stared at her chest. Also, Kakuzu was pretty fucking scary looking. “We’ve got a difficult customer here...”

There was a man arguing about the state of his finances. He was swearing enough to sound like Hidan on a good day. “I’m _fucking_ telling you, that Nara fucker has left me in so much debt!” he roared, and the other teller, Hinata, looked like she was about to cry. “I really don’t want to see Hinata crying…” said Sakura uncertainly. “So… well…”

“Call security and get him removed.” Kakuzu wasn’t going to put up with this shit on his first day in his new career. Sakura went off to get the phone.

The security guards, one of them vaguely familiar, marched in to grab hold of the irate man and put him in a hold so he wouldn’t move. Kakuzu wasn’t paying any attention to the commotion, until one of them bumped him on the shoulder as they moved the angry customer out of the bank.

“Hey fuckface. I said I’d see you next Tuesday.”

“ _Get out._ ”

And that’s how Hidan lost his job as a security guard.

 

\-- The fucking end -- 


End file.
